


Witch of the Woods (and other sensible things)

by the_nerd_youre_looking_for



Series: TMA Fantasy Week [2]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Witchcraft, Background Character Death, Customer to Lovers, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, M/M, TMA Fantasy Week, Trans Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Trans Martin Blackwood, Witchcraft, again not important but i like to let you know, just martins mom not too much of a loss, no one gets to think anyone in my fics are cis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-10
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-16 00:13:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29941545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_nerd_youre_looking_for/pseuds/the_nerd_youre_looking_for
Summary: There is a witch living in the forest.Everyone knows this, of course. It'd be hard for him to do any business if he were a secret.His name is Jonathan Sims, but he prefers to be called Jon, and if you ask, he'll sell any sort of spell or charm.Prompt: Forest
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Series: TMA Fantasy Week [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2201430
Comments: 11
Kudos: 61





	Witch of the Woods (and other sensible things)

**Author's Note:**

> The title for this literally came to me in a dream. I woke up with it in my brain so I figured I might as well use it!
> 
> Don't listen to Martin, from my experience Jon looks exactly like a witch
> 
> The time period for this is whatever ASOUE had going on

There is a witch living in the forest.

Everyone knows this, of course. It'd be hard for him to do any business if he were a secret.

His name is Jonathan Sims, but he prefers to be called Jon, and if you ask, he'll sell any sort of spell or charm. Whatever you need, as long as you don't need it for any sort of wicked purpose. He does have standards, after all. 

______

When Martin Blackwood first comes to Jon's cabin, he needs a health spell. 

"Right. Give me ten minutes for it." Jon had nodded, and pointed to a seat at the kitchen table. Martin sat, not a little awkwardly. 

He watched as Jon moved like a whirlwind around the kitchen, grinding herbs up in a mortar, plucking dried rings hanging from the rafters, and grinding up salts. "So..." He said. "It's nice out today, isn't it?" 

"Mm." Jon muttered. "Suppose so." He fell silent again, and Martin got the impression that he didn't like to talk while he worked. 

Eleven minutes later, Martin was being handed a small glass jar with a blue ribbon tied around it. "Here." Jon said. "Usually, pouches work best so you can sew them on your clothes, but it's very liquidy." Martin reached for it but Jon gave him a stern look and pulled it back an inch. "This is not a substitute for actual medical help, I hope you know. It only enhances it. Or protects you from disease if you aren't already. Go to a doctor if you're sick. Do you understand?"

Martin was not stupid. Of course he knew that. "Yes, I do." He nodded and took the jar. "How much do I owe you?"

Jon thought for a moment and named his price. Martin paid and left.

He sort of doubted that his mash would do anything to help his mother. Jon Sims did not look like what he'd always heard witches looked like. He wore an oversized cardigan, a skirt he thinks his grandma might've owned, and he decorated his glasses chain with cat-shaped charms. But, well, Martin was a bit desperate and he'd heard good things. And it seemed to work, for the most part. 

______

The second time Martin comes by, he asks for three more health spells and something for peace of mind.

Jon raised an eyebrow at him, vaguely reminiscent of an angry teacher, but said that it would take about twenty minutes, so he was free to make himself comfortable. 

"What are these all for, anyway?" Jon asked, while he was trying three sprigs of lavender together. 

Martin shifted uncomfortably. "Do you need to know?"

"For peace of mind, it's good to know what it's meant to calm." Jon said. He always said these things like it was common sense. Martin figures it might've irritated him, but for some reason it was endearing. 

"Well, my mum. She's sick, and I...I don't know if we can do anything else." Martin glanced down at the table and clasped his hands together. "She's...irritable. Understandably! I just want to see if I can do anything to calm her down." 

Jon was silent, looking at Martin with an expression he couldn't decipher. Then, he turned back to his work, dipping the lavender into a bottle of something or other. "That's kind of you." He said softly, rubbing the liquid up the sprigs gently, as if he were afraid of damaging them. "Hang this above her bedroom door. It should work to calm her down." 

He hands Martin everything in a paper bag, decorated with a couple cutesy stickers. When Jon names the price, Martin notices it's the same as last time. 

______

Martin comes fairly late the third time, and despite the light in the windows he's thinking of turning and waiting till tomorrow. But then Jon opens the door as if he just knew Martin was there and then it was too late to run. 

"Come and sit, I'm making dinner." Jon ushered Martin inside, without even saying 'hello'. "Do you have any dietary restrictions or allergies?" 

"Um, no." Martin sat at his usual chair and stared as a bowl was pushed in front of him. "But it's fine, really, I was just going to eat when I got home." 

"It'll be late by the time you get home." Jon took a pot off the stove and started ladling some sort of stew into their bowls. "We can eat and then I'll prepare whatever you need."

Jon turned out to be a really good cook. He'd made a venison stew, with some mushrooms and potatoes, and Martin was almost tempted to ask for a bowl to take home. They made some idle conversation, about Martin's job at the bookshop in town and some of the occurrences in the forest (which Martin found a lot more interesting, but Jon seemed to like hearing about the shop). After they finished, Jon cleaned the dishes, despite Martin's protests. It felt very familiar and warm in a way Martin hadn't had for a long while now. He almost felt at home in this little cabin.

"So. What did you need from me?" Jon wiped his hands on his cardigan. Martin had almost forgotten he was here on a business matter.

"Ah, just something for a pest problem." He shrugged. "I know, call an exterminator. I _did_ but nothing gets rid of these damn worms." 

Jon nodded, smiled, and got to work. Five minutes later, Martin was leaving with a small spray, a business card for another exterminator ("Try this first, you might've just gotten a shit one last time"), and a small ball of light ("It's _dark_ out, I can't have you tripping over rocks and cracking your neck, can I"). 

Martin was beginning to think he and Jon were sort of friends. 

______

"You know, I also do tarot readings sometimes." 

Martin glanced over at Jon. They were waiting for his sleep tea to be finished steeping and all, because apparently Jon thought it was best to just make a whole thermos here instead of sending Martin along with the blend. If it worked better this way, though, he didn't mind. His mother was having trouble sleeping, and Jon's stuff has been helping her a lot lately. Martin had given up with the health spells. If the doctors couldn't do anything more, he wasn't sure those little jars could do much. But he could help with little things. Try to make things easier for her.

"I didn't know that. You never told me." 

Jon shrugged and crossed the room, pulling a dusty deck of cards off of his bookshelf. "You never asked. I do it on request." 

"How much is it?" Martin watched him sit back down and brush the dust off. It could be interesting, but he did have budgets in place for these types of things.

"Just your company." Jon smiled at him and took the cards out. He knocked on them thrice then started to shuffle. "Any specific questions you want to ask?" When Martin shrugged for an answer, Jon nodded like he understood. "Just a past-present-future, then." He spread the cards out and gestured at them. "Pick three." 

Martin had gotten his fortune told a couple times in the past, just for fun, mostly. Once a palm reader had told him he'd meet the love of his life in university, which, well. But it always felt sort of intimidating, like he were a bug being examined and diagrammed. Here, in the warmth of Jon's house, where it smelled like cinnamon and the man himself hummed tunelessly and he glanced at the kettle to make sure it wasn't boiling over, it felt...safer. Less imposing. He scanned the cards and picked out three at random. Jon flipped them, letting Martin look for a second before turning them to face himself. 

Eight of Cups, The Tower, Page of Wands.

"This, here. You've had to leave behind things. Maybe things you cared about." Jon tapped the Eight of Cups. "Maybe people left you behind as well. It was a period of change. Transitioning into a new path, a new stage of life, a new you. Often full of disappointments, because you had to move on from things you had cared about or things you felt suited you."

He tapped twice on The Tower. "Now. This one is intimidating. Things feel like they're falling apart. It's the end of the world as you know it and you aren't sure what to do. Change, probably painful. But it isn't the end of the world, although it might feel like it is. You're going to ride this change out and see where it leaves you."

He held up the Page of Wands with a small smile. "The future is often the least clear reading I can get, nothing is set in stone. But this is the most likely path you can work towards and achieve. You'll have the ability to explore new things and to pick up old habits after having to give things up. Make new routines, new memories. This one is associated heavily with, essentially, limitless possibilities." He set the card down and began shuffling them back together. "How was it? Accurate, would you say?"

Martin felt a little overwhelmed, a little choked up. It was embarrassing, but it was fairly accurate and it made him want to cry a little. The fact that Jon saw a future for him filled with freedom and possibilities..... "Yeah, I'd say. Things are feeling a bit Tower right now." He tried for a casual chuckle but it came out hollow. 

"Well, it won't be forever. Things tend to fall apart, and fall back into place. Not the same way, but in a way you can work with." Jon got up and poured the tea into a travel thermos, handing it off to Martin.

"Thanks a lot." Martin held the thermos to his chest, letting the warmth soak through his jumper. "How much do I owe you?"

"Don't worry about it." Jon flushed and waved his hand dismissively.

"Jon, I can't just take this, I-"

"You can. Consider it a friends and family discount." Jon waved him out the door. "Get home safe."

"Well...thank you, so much." Martin waved as he left. "I'll see you!" Such a familiar feeling, he barely just bit off a "love you!" before it left him.

______

Martin would come and visit every so often, usually to pick up something for his mother and sometimes just to say hi. Jon never seemed to mind the days he stopped by just for a conversation and maybe a cup of tea. So it wasn't out of the ordinary that Martin showed up at Jon's cabin one evening. When Jon took in his formal suit and barely-held-together expression, he let him inside without a word. 

Jon sat him down on the couch this time and sat next to him, holding one of Martin's hands in one of his. "So, she's...she's passed, then?" He asked softly.

Martin just nodded. "I didn't want to go back home after the funeral, so..." He cut himself off, afraid he'd burst into tears if he said anything else. 

"I understand." Jon murmured, and Martin felt like he really did. "Would you....um..." He opened his arms, looking incredibly awkward. Martin pulled him into a hug and finally let himself cry. 

Martin pulled back after a couple minutes, taking a moment to just breathe. He didn't want to talk about anything, not really. He'd just wanted to exist in Jon's warm home, sit among the clutter and just sort of....be there. But as he wiped his eyes with his sleeve, a hint of an idea came to him. He felt guilty about it almost immediately. "Jon, uh." His voice came out watery and he hated it. "Do you...do you have anything to make somebody forget?"

Jon furrowed his brow in concern. "What do you want to forget?"

"My mum, she....she was never particularly nice to me. She wasn't awful all the time, don't get me wrong, just....it was rough." Martin forced himself to look at a spot just above Jon's ear instead of down at the floor like he would've preferred. "And now people will come up to me, and they'll say how sorry they are that I've lost a good mother, and...and I just think, 'no she wasn't'. She's _dead_ and I can only remember her being awful. It would be easier to forget it so I could remember her respectfully." He felt near tears again, but he didn't want to embarrass himself again. 

Jon sighed and was silent for a moment. Then he got up and crossed into the kitchen. "I don't think it's so bad to remember when people were awful to you." he said, so gently Martin wanted to break. "It isn't disrespectful, it's just...remembering them as they were." He bustled around, putting herbs in his tea ball and filling the kettle. 

"I still feel bad. She doesn't deserve it. She did so much-"

"I know it's hard." Jon interrupted, placing the kettle on the stove. "It took me a bit to admit to myself that maybe my grandmother hadn't done such a great job raising me." He sat back down next to Martin, fiddling with his glasses chain. "I won't make you forget things. That...that would cause more problems than it might solve."

It had been a bit of a pipe dream anyway, so Martin wasn't too disappointed. Still, there were plenty of things he wouldn't mind forgetting. The way his mother used to be kind to him. How his father had been a good man before he left. Those types of things. It always made him feel like he'd done something to make them stop loving him. 

Martin was snapped out of that train of thought when Jon pressed a cup of warm tea into his hands. "That's the one I make for easy sleep." He said. "Stay here tonight. Feel free to try and borrow any of my pajamas, though I'm not sure much will fit you. Can't be comfortable sleeping in a suit." 

Jon lead him to the bedroom and sat him down on the small bed, while Martin took little sips of the tea. It was minty, and he could feel his eyelids getting heavier as he drank it. He'd already been tired when he got there, and Jon's quilt was very comfortable. 

"Up you go, Martin. See if you can change into this first." Martin hadn't even noticed Jon digging through the closet. He took the cup out of Martin's hands and helped him up. "I'll be in the living room if you need me. Good night." 

"'Night." Martin mumbled sleepily. Christ, he wanted to just go to bed and get this day over with, but Jon was right. Sleeping in a suit would not be comfortable. Somehow, he'd managed to dig up a nightgown that fit Martin, so he changed into that and got back into the bed.

In the morning, he'd apologize to Jon about kicking him out of his bed and for bothering him at such a late hour, and Jon will say that it wasn't any bother and to just eat his breakfast already. But for now, he'll sleep, and he won't have nightmares.

______

The last time Martin visits Jon's cabin is on one of his worse days. Since his mother died, he'd gotten more withdrawn than he already was. It seemed to dawn on him then that he didn't have anyone he saw regularly, no one he was really friends with. People in town said their condolences because he was a familiar face, but they didn't know him. None of them called to check up on him or came over with meals or even just invited him to hang out and talk. Not even when his mum was still alive. And the only person he _did_ hang out with probably only did so because he was good business. Jon probably couldn't care less about him, definitely didn't need all his messy feelings for him. So, he decided to stop coming over for a while.

Just a month. Martin didn't want Jon to visit, but it hurt like ice in his heart when he didn't. None of his coworkers or neighbors noticed his change in behavior. He was hiding it from them, but _still._ He just wanted someone to notice, someone who knew him well enough to see through the bullshit and genuinely ask him if he was alright. But, well, he'd never gotten close enough to anyone for them to know him as anything other than sweet, bumbling Martin. 

It hurt to know it was his fault, and it hurt that nobody ever tried to get to know him, and it hurt that Jon didn't ever come to see what was wrong. 

Eventually it just got to be too much. Martin found himself taking that familiar dirt path in the forest to Jon's house. It was a bit foggy that afternoon, which was weird since it was supposed to be sunny, but he knew the way so well that he never even got close to lost. 

"Martin! I've missed you!" Jon flung open the door before Martin even knocked, wearing the brightest smile he's seen on the man. "I mean...I don't really know where you live, so I couldn't check on you, but I also figured maybe you needed space, so." Jon wrung his hands together and smiled awkwardly up at him. "Here, sit down."

Maybe Martin should've felt stupid ( _obviously_ Jon didn't know where he lived, how could he have visited) or relieved (he did miss him, he did care to some extent) but he just felt...nothing. Or, not nothing, but a sort of cold numbness that froze up anything else. God, he wanted it to stop. "I'd like to, uh...buy a spell or something." It came out duller than he'd have liked, and he felt bad for a second at the concern that settled in Jon's expression.

"What do you need?" Was all he asked. Martin loved that about him, he never really pried. 

"Something to...to help get rid of loneliness." He felt sort of stupid asking for it. Really, it was one of the first things he'd ever asked from Jon for himself.

"You know magic doesn't fix everything." Jon squeezed Martin's hand before getting up to put the kettle on. He methodically pressed his herbs into the tea ball, like Martin had seen him do hundreds of times now. "Sometimes you have to find a mundane solution."

"I'm no good at those things." Martin drummed his fingers on the table. It was familiar by now. "Something to maybe...just stave it off, or help me be a bit more outgoing. I don't mind the cost."

"It's all been free for you for a while." Jon sat down heavily and scooted his chair closer to Martin's. "So I've...I've got an idea for just a mundane solution. Because sometimes those work better. But only if you want it."

"I'll take anything, really." Martin tried not to sound desperate. He did anyway. 

Jon took a deep breath and fiddled with his glasses chain, like he always did when he was anxious. "Stay here with me. No magic can hold off these things for long, it's never permanent. And I can't promise to be able to either. But, if you like, you could stay here with me. And I could help you whenever you got lonely and you could help me whenever I get caught up in my work. And we could just be together."

Some of the ice inside Martin cracked, and he could feel tears on their way. Maybe not now, but definitely later. Jon cared. Jon cared enough to invite him to live with him and maybe he returned Martin's feelings? Couldn't be sure. But probably. "Yeah," He said, holding back happy laughter. "Yeah, I think I'd like that a lot." 

**Author's Note:**

> The only thing I had planned for this was the end scene. It was another one of those things that just rocketed into my mind and wouldn't leave
> 
> Jon, on the phone: Georgie I keep giving this guy free spell and stuff do you think he knows I'm hitting on him
> 
> I believe in the inherent romance of reading someone's tarot cards. I think it should be included in romantic scenes and then the characters should kiss


End file.
